3501 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ECHOES 

FROM  THE 

GREEN  HILLS 


Myrtie    Anna    Aldrich 


Oi 

3 
03 


ECHOES 
FROM  THE  GREEN  HILLS 

MYRTIE  ANNA  ALDRICH 


Illustrations  By 

EARL  ALLEN  TITUS 


If  thou  art  worn  and  hard  beset 

With  sorroios  that  thou  wouldst  forget, 

If  thou  wouldst  read  a  lesson,  that  will  Tceep 

Thy  heart  from  fainting  and  thy  soul  from  sleep, 

Go  to  the  woods  and  hills!    No  tears 

Dim  the  sweet  look  that  Nature  wears. 

Longfellow 


TKe  Tuttle    Comtwny 

Puhltsbrra 
Rutland,  Vermont 


Copyright,  1922 
By  MYRTIE  A.  ALDRICH 


DEDICATION 


To  the  dear  friends,  whose  belief  in  me,  and 
my  work,  has  ever  been  an  inspiration,  and  an 
incentive  to  greater  and  better  effort;  whose 
friendship,  tried  and  true,  has  been  like  a  strong 
anchor,  amid  the  storms  of  life;  and  whose  many 
deeds  of  thoughtful  kindness  have  blossomed 
along  my  pathway  like  rare  and  beautiful  flowers, 
making  brighter  the  dark  places,  and  filling  them 
with  the  fragrance  of  love  and  sympathy,  this 
little  volume  is  affectionately  dedicated. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


MYRTIE  A.  ALDRICH 


FOREWORD 


It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  introduce  to  a  wider 
circle  of  readers  and  admirers  the  choice  col 
lection  of  poems  by  Miss  Myrtie  A.  Aldrich  that 
are  contained  in  this  little  volume.  Handicapped 
by  the  loss  of  her  eyesight  in  her  early  childhood 
by  a  fall  while  at  play,  for  nearly  fifty  years  she 
has  overcome  all  obstacles  and  exhibited  a  rare 
spirit  of  optimism  in  a  life  of  ceaseless  activity. 
She  has  always  lived  with  her  mother  in  the  home 
in  West  Burke,  Vt.,  where  she  was  born  June  28, 
1872.  The  record  of  her  life  commands  the  ad 
miration  of  all  her  friends.  After  a  common 
school  education  she  entered  in  1884  the  Perkins 
Institute  at  South  Boston,  where  she  remained 
seven  years.  While  there  she  became  acquainted 
with  Laura  Bridgemaii  and  Helen  Keller,  as  well 
as  a  noted  coterie  of  Boston  literati,  including 
Julia  Ward  Howe,  Edward  Everett  Hale  and 
Hezekiah  Butterworth.  She  also  had  the  oppor 
tunity  of  hearing  all  the  famous  musicians  of 
the  day  and  enjoying  the  finest  concerts  given  at 
that  time  in  Boston.  Entering  Montpelier  Sem 
inary  as  a  junior  in  1893  she  was  graduated  with 
first  honors  in  1895,  also  winning  the  second 
prize  in  the  senior  prize-speaking  contest.  For  the 
next  ten  years  she  gave  dramatic  recitals  through 
northern  New  England  and  Canada.  Since  19C5 


she  has  been  the  day  operator  of  the  West  Burke 
telephone  exchange,  doing  her  work  with  won 
derful  accuracy  and  promptness. 

Miss  Aldrich  began  writing  poetry  when  18 
years  old,  her  poems  having  appeared  in  the  Sr. 
Nicholas,  the  Zeigler  Magazine  for  the  Blind, 
Boston  dailies  and  many  Vermont  papers.  Her 
greeting-card  sentiments  have  also  a  wide  repu 
tation. 

ARTHUR  F.  STONE. 
St.  Johnsbury,  Vt. 

July  10,  1922. 


CONTENTS 


Vermont  15 

My  Waking  Garden  17 

A  Call  to  Spring  18 

A  Brave  Young  Lover 20 

The  Coquette  21 

An  April  Day  22 

Spring  O'  the  Year 22 

I  Want  to  Play  with  Spring  23 

Longing   24 

May   25 

Lilacs   26 

When  Summer  Wedded  Spring  28 

Children  of  the  Wood  29 

Nature's  Call  30 

God's  Gardens   31 

The  Voice  of  the  Forest 32 

The  Heart  of  Youth  34 

The  Season's  Queen  35 

A  Mid-Summer  Fete  36 

God's   Gift   38 

A  Summer  Day  39 

Maiden-Hair  Ferns  40 

Beauty   42 

Dreaming  44 

A  Sunbeam,  a  Song,  and  a  Smile 45 

Twilight  on  Lake  Willoughby  46 

A  Picture  47 

The  Last  Song  .  48 


A  Day  in  Late  October  50 

The  Song  of  the  Wind 52 

Patience  53 

Twilight 53 

Welcome  Old  Winter 54 

Crows  in  Winter  55 

The  Love  of  Country  First  56 

Peace  on  Earth  Again  58 

The  Stay-at-Home  60 

Back  Home  62 

October  Reflections   63 

To-Morrow   64 

Behind  and  Before 65 

Broken   Promises  66 

Mine  to  Keep  67 

God  Knows  the  Way 68 

My  Garden  68 

Friendship  69 

Wayside  Lights 70 

Questionings    71 

The   Better   Way   72 

A  Cure  73 

An  Old  Man's  Complaint 74 

Tenderness  77 

An  Invitation  78 

An  Ideal  Home  80 

My  Resolve 81 

Contentment   82 

My  Quiet  Valley 84 

The  Reason  Why  86 

Little  Voices  88 

Stepping-Stones  to  Happiness  90 


Alone  at  Night  91 

At  the  Close  of  Day  92 

Two  Points  of  View  94 

Glimpses  95 

A  Thought  of  Me 96 

If  I  Should  Die  Before  I  Wake  97 

If  We  Could  Know  98 

Hope   100 

Weaving   101 

Whither   102 

Our  Friend  103 

Encouragement  , 104 

Mother's  Eventide  105 

When  I  Grow  Old  106 

When  the  Joy  Bells  Ring 107 

The  Lamp  of  Contentment  108 

A  Message  of  Peace  110 


Echoes 
From  The   Green   Hills 


VERMONT 

We  love  her  when  her  mountain  peaks 
Are  crowned  with  sparkling  snow, 

When  mighty  rushing  winter  winds 
Down  through  her  valleys  blow. 

And  when  the  gleaming  ice  is  thick 
On  lake  and  pond  and  stream; 

When  all  her  fields  are  white  and  still, 
And  all  her  forests  dream. 

We  love  her  when  the  days  grow  long, 

And  Mother  Nature  lifts 
The  blanket  from  the  sleeping  earth, 

And  melts  the  wayside  drifts. 
When  brooks  and  rills  laugh  out  for  joy, 

And  bluebirds  softly  call, 
Then,  old  Vermont  grows  young  again, 

And  has  a  smile  for  all. 

We  love  her  when  the  barefoot  boy, 

Brings  berries  to  our  door; 
When  buttercups  with  daisies  dance, 

Upon  the  earth's  green  floor; 
And  newmown  hay  pervades  the  air, — 

What  more  could  mortal  want 
Than  just  to  wander  o'er  the  hills 

And  fields  of  fair  Vermont. 


15 


ECHOES   FROM    THE   GREEN   HILLS 

We  love  her  when  the  year  grows  old. 

And  harvest  time  is  near, 
When  ripened  grain,  and  apples  red, 

And  goldenrod  appear. 
When  through  the  purple  haze,  we  see 

Rich  colors  softly  glow, 
And  spicy  odors  from  the  woods 

Like  dreams,  drift  to  and  fro. 

Fair  land  of  mountains,  lakes    and  streams, 

Of  vales  and  hills  of  green, 
Of  men  and  women,  brave  and  true 

As  e'er  the  world  has  seen; 
We  love  her  for  her  history, 

The  deeds,  that  made  her  great; 
For  all  her  beauty,  and  her  charm, 

Our  dear  Green  Mountain  State. 


16 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


MY  WAKING  GARDEN 

All  winter  long  my  garden  has  been  dead, 
No  blade  of  grass,  no  leaf  on  bush  or  tree; 

But  now,  a  song  of  life  to  earth  hath  sped, 
And  lo!  spring  brings  my  garden  back  to  me. 

Out  there,  a  cosy  nest  the  blue-birds  build, 
While  crocuses  are  climbing  toward  the  light; 

The  robin's  breast  with  rapture  sweet  is  thrilled, 
And  Flora  weaves  new  petals,  soft  and  bright. 

A  pansy  woke  this  morning  with  a  smile, 
The  daffodils  are  breaking  through  the  sod; 

The  flower  folk,  in  just  a  littie  while, 

Will  offer  up  their  hymn  of  praise  to  God. 

The  bobolinks  and  orioles  will  come, 

And  lilacs  will  be  blooming  down  the  lane; 

The  honeysuckle  bush  with  bees  will  hum, 
And  I  shall  have  my  garden  back  again! 


17 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


A   CALL   TO   SPRING 
The  brooks  are  bound  with  icy  chains, 

The  fields  are  wrapped  in  blankets  white, 
The  roots  and  buds  are  fast  asleep, 

0  yes,  it's  winter  still,  all  right. 

I've  looked  for  Spring  for  days  and  days, 
In  skies  above,  on  earth  below; 

But  all  I  felt,  was  bitter  wind, 
And  all  I  saw,  was  ice,  and  snow. 

I've  listened  for  the  robin's  song, 
It's  time  that  he  was  here,  you  know; 

But  what  I  heard,  was  not  his  voice, 
And  what  I  saw,  was  just  a  crow. 

Spring  is  a  lassie  shy,  we  know, 

A  beauty-loving  little  maid, 
Perhaps,  the  world  is  so  mixed  up, 

She's  worried  and  a  bit  afraid. 

Some  places  where  she  strews  her  flowers 
Are  scenes  of  carnage,  and  of  strife; 

To  see  the  change  would  sadden  her, 
She  loves  to  give,  not  squander  life. 

18 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

So,  maybe,  that's  the  reason  why 
The  winds  are  cold,  the  streams  are  dumb, 

Dear  Spring,  we  know  just  how  you  feel, 
But  you  must  face  the  thing,  so  come! 

We  need  your  laughter  and  your  smiles, 
Your  bird  songs,  and  your  warmth  and  light; 

The  world  is  cold,  and  dark  with  pain, 

Come,  Spring!  and  make  all  places  bright — 


19 


A  BRAVE  YOUNG  LOVER 

A  brave  young  lover  went  wooing  one  day, 

In  a  suit  of  sober  brown, 
With  a  crimson  vest, 
And  a  tiny  crest 

Of  feathers,  as  soft  as  down. 

He  went  from  a  country  blooming  and  fair, 
To  a  land  where  snow  drifts  lay; 

Nothing  green  was  there, 

All  the  trees  were  bare, 
And  the  Spring  seemed  far  away. 

But  the  hopeful  young  lover's  heart  was  light, 
He  cared  naught  for  ice  and  snow; 

His  glad  tender  voice 

Made   seedlings   rejoice, 
And  the  buds  began  to  grow. 

And  then,  bye  and  bye,  all  the  snow  was  gone, 

Nature  spread  her  carpets  green; 
i  [Shy  violets  blue, 
iCherry  blossoms  too, 

Smiled  up  at  the  sky  serene. 

20 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

And  the  happy  young  lover's  heart  was  glad, 

As  he  trilled  the  earth  above; 
For  the  blossoms  bright 
Heard  with  deep  delight 

His  sweet  yearning  notes  of  love. 

And  he  sang  for  joy,  for  sure  was  he, 

As  he  flew  from  limb  to  limb, 
All  that  fresh  sweet  bloom 
Had  burst  from  its  tomb 

Just  to  greet,  and  welcome  him. 


THE  COQUETTE 

Twas  April,  yet  Spring  seemed  far  away, 

And  the  hand  of  Winter  chill 
Held  fast  the  keys  that  locked  the  brooks, 
And  somber  skies  with  sullen  looks 

Hung  low  o'er  field  and  hill. 

'Twas  April,  the  air  was  soft  and  mild, 

And  the  sky  was  blue  above; 
The  robins  piped,  "Tis  Spring,  'tis  Spring!" 
And  all  the  world  with  joy  did  sing 

The  old  sweet  song  of  love. 


21 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


AN  APRIL  DAY 

Young  Spring  is  lost  among  the  drifts, 

The  fierce  North  Wind  has  driv'n  her  out; 
The  song-birds  shiver  in  the  trees, 

And  wonder  what  it's  all  about. 
Old  Winter  laughs  a  hollow  laugh, 

That  clogs  the  brooks,  and  chills  the  sap, 
And  all  the  flowers  change  their  minds 

And  cuddle  for  another  nap. 


SPRING  O'  THE  YEAR 

Pussy  willers  noddin'  on  the  bough, 

Brooks  an'  breezes  laughin'  sweet  and  clear; 

Green  things  soon  will  be  a-sproutin'  now, 
Don't  yer  heart  grow  warm  this  time  o'  year? 

Ice  an'  snow  a  meltin'  all  around, 
Robins  comin'  back  to  build  an'  sing, 

April  spillin'  flowers  on  the  ground, 

Hearts  a  growin'  young,  because  it's  Spring. 


22 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    tJILLS 


I  WANT  TO  PLAY  WITH  SPRING 

When  Spring  comes  smiling  down  the  road, 
I'll  go  to  meet  her,  you  just  bet; 

I'll  help  her  through  the  last  big  drifts, 
And  keep  her  feet  from  getting  wet. 

I'll  ask  her  please  to  show  me  where 
The  first  arbutus  may  be  found; 

And  where  the  velvet  mosses  be, 

That  make  green  carpets  on  the  ground. 

Together,  we  will  find  the  place 
Where  pussy-willows  always  grow; 

And  she  will  show  me  baby  ferns, 
That  have  been  sleeping  'neath  the  snow. 

I'll  take  her  to  the  crocus  bed, 
That's  waiting  to  be  kissed  to  life, 

And  ask  her,  when  she's  going  to  send 
For  Mr.  Robin  and  his  wife. 

The  winds  and  brooks  will  join  to  make 
Glad  music,  for  our  dancing  feet; 

We'll  smell  the  breath  of  growing  things, 
And  hear  new  bird  notes,  soft  and  sweet. 


23 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

We'll  play  together  all  day  long, 
For  she  is  young  you  see,  like  me; 

And  loves  to  dance,  and  laugh,  and  sing, 
And  make  folks  happy  as  can  be. 

So,  when  I  think  it's  time  for  her, 
I'll  watch,  and  listen,  till  quite  clear 

I  hear  her  calling  me  to  come, — 
And  then,  I'll  run, — and  bring  her  here! 


LONGING 

O  to  be  out  'neath  the  soft  Spring  sky, 
To  be  free,  to  welcome  each  happy  new-comer ! 

O  just  to  hear  blithesome  winds  go  by, 
Singing  of  joy,  and  love,  and  Summer! 

0  to  recline  by  a  laughing  stream, 

To  drink  in   the  fragrance  of   blossoms  un 
numbered! 
O  just  to  lie  mid  green  things,  and  dream, 

Close  to  the  heart  where  Spring  has  slumbered ! 


24 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


MAY 

I  found  her  in  a  woodsy  dell 

Asleep,  upon  a  mossy  bed, 
Anemones  were  keeping  watch, 

And  sunbeams  played  about  her  head. 
Her  hands  were  full  of  violets, 

As  blue  and  tender  as  the  skies; 
Her  dress  of  green  was  'broidered  o'er 

With  daffodils  and  butterflies. 

Beside  her  was  a  crystal  vase, 

A  thing  of  beauty,  frail  and  rare, 
Brim  full  of  perfumes  of  the  Spring 

That  rose  like  incense  on  the  air. 
A  bobolink,  upon  a  bough 

Awoke  her,  in  his  own  glad  way; 
And  then  I  knew  I'd  guessed  aright, 

The  lovely  maiden's  name  was  May. 


25 


LILACS 

Sweet  and  clear  the  dewy  morning, 

Glad  with  songs  of  many  birds, 
Chirping,  flitting,  'mong  the  treetops, 
Trilling  forth  their  strange  sweet  words. 

Down  the  garden  path   I   wandered, 
Past  the  pansies,  just  awake; 

And  I  saw  the  sunbeams  coming, 
Each  his  morning  kiss  to  take. 

Then,  I  caught  a  subtle  fragrance, 
And  I  whispered  "Can  it  be? 

Have  the  dear  old  lilacs  blossomed, 
Are  they  calling  now,  to  me?" 

O'er  the  short  wet  grass  I  hastened, 

In  the  sunshines's  golden  light; 
Past  the  daffodils  and  tulips, 
And  the  waxen  lilies  white; 

Till  I  reached  the  western  corner, 
Where  in  childhood  days  I  played, 

And  lo!  there  among  the  green  leaves 
Plumes  of  white  and  purple  swayed. 


26 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

That  was  long  ago,  dear  lilacs, 

But  your  perfume  on  the  air 
Calls  to  mind  that  far-off  morning, 

In  that  quaint  old  garden  fair. 

O  the  memories  you  waken, 
O  the  thoughts  that  throng  my  brain 

When  you  call  to  me,  dear  lilacs, 
When  I  see  your  plumes  again! 


27 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

WHEN  SUMMER  WEDDED  SPRING 

Spring  and  Summer  had  a  wedding, 

On  a  bright  and  sunny  day; 
And  the  dainty  winsome  bridesmaids 

Were  the  sisters,  June  and  May. 

Parson  Jack  stood  in  his  pulpit, 

Orange  clad,  and  quite  unique; 
And  they  say,  performed  the  service, 

Though  I  never  heard  him  speak. 

Choirs  of  birds  made  wondrous  music, 
All  the  brooks  and  streams  were  there; 

And  the  year  brought  choicest  blossoms, 
Which  were  scattered  everywhere. 

How  the  trees  their  new  gowns  rustled, 
Feeling  strangely  young,  and  gay! 

Just  the  four  Winds  were  the  ushers, 
Nature  gave  the  bride  away. 

And  the  whole  affair  was  perfect, 

As  all  weddings  ought  to  be; 
And  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers 

Still  comes  back  in  dreams  to  me. 

When  the  Winter  snows  are  falling, 
And  the  cold  winds  bite  and  sting; 

I  shall  think  of  that  glad  morning, 
When  young  Summer  wedded  Spring. 

28 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  WOOD 

In  the  warm  damp  places, 

Sheltered  by  the  trees, 
Kissed  by  wandering  sunbeams, 

Fanned  by  every  breeze, 
Live  the  sweet  wood  children, 

With  the  birds  that  sing, 
Weaving  soft  bright  carpets 

For  the  feet  of  Spring. 

Some  are  gay  and  friendly, 

When  we  chance  to  meet, 
Others,  shy  and  modest, 

Breathing  perfume  sweet; 
Some  are  bright  and  graceful, 

Touched  with  beauty  rare, 
Some  are  dressed  like  Quakers, 

All  are  wondrous  fair. 

Happy  little  blossoms, 

When  the  warm  rains  fall, 
Waking  from   their  slumbers 

At  the  bluebird's  call; 
Lifting  dainty  faces 

To  the  sun,  and  dew; 
Little  wild-wood  children, 

We  thank  God  for  you. 


29 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

NATURE'S  CALL 

When  it's  cherry-blossom  time, 
And  I  hear  the  liquid  chime 

That  the  bobolink  hides  somewhere  'neath  his 

wings, 

Something  stirs  within  my  heart, 
Bidding  care  and  age  depart, 

And  the  youth  that  will  not  die,  within  me  sings. 

When  the  leaves  are  young  and  new, 
And  the  sky  is  May's  own  blue, 

And  the  oriole  is  piping  silver-clear; 
1  would  love  to  lie  and  dream, 
By  some  little  dancing  stream, 

With  unfolding  ferns  and  mosses  growing  near. 

When  the  waxen  lilies  white 
Fill  my  senses  with  delight, 

And  the  fragrant  purple  lilacs  nod  and  sway; 
When  a  thousand  odors  blent, 
From  God's  wide-spread  gardens  sent, 

Make  each  breath  a  sudden  joy,  through  all 
the  day. 

Then  my  spirit  soars  and  sings, 
Hope  revives,  and  spreads  its  wings, 

And  I  long  to  be  a  Gypsy,  glad  and  free; 
Just  to  spend  those  golden  hours 
Out  among  the  birds  and  flowers, 

Where  the  woods,  and  fields  and  meadows  talk 
to  me. 

30 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


GOD'S  GARDENS 

I  love  the  man-made  gardens, 

Where  all  in  rows  and  beds 
The  jonquils  and  the  tulips 

In  Spring  lift  up  their  heads. 
Where  golden-hearted  lilies, 

And  pansies,  fresh  and  fair, 
And  mignonette,  and  roses, 

Breathe  perfume  every  where. 

Where  sweet-peas  dance  to  music 

Of  birds,  and  winds,  and  streams; 
And  drowsy  silken  poppies 

Fill  all  the  air  with  dreams. 
But  when  young  Spring  is  calling, 

I  needs  must  wander  far; 
Through  budding  woods,  and  meadows, 

Where  Nature's  gardens  are. 

To  feel  the  fragrant  silence 

Beneath  the  forest  trees, 
See  blossom-sprinkled  hillsides, 

And  mossy  banks,  and  leas 
Where  violets  nod,  and  beckon, 

And  cowslips  star  the  sod, 
They  weave  a  spell  about  me, 

These  gardens,  made  by  God! 


31 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  FOREST 

Away  to  the  cool  dim  forest 

I  wandered,  one  bright  spring  day, 

And  I  heard  the  brooks  laugh  gaily, 
Glad  again  to  be  at  play. 

Above  me  the  sky  was  cloudless, 
All  the  air  was  fresh  and  sweet; 

And  mosses  and  dainty  blossoms 
Made  a  carpet  for  my  feet. 

Up  among  the  tender  leaflets 
That  rustled  and  danced  with  glee, 

I  could  see  the  saucy  squirrels 
Peeping  slyly  down  at  me. 

And  I  heard  sweet  bits  of  love  songs, 
From  the  busy  feathered  band, 

Who  are  building  pretty  nest  homes, 
In  the  trees,  on  every  hand. 

Then  I  found  a  rare  white  blossom, 
So  wondrously  sweet  and  fair, 

Methought  the  hand  of  an  angel 

Must  have  blessed,  and  placed  it  there. 


32 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

And  I  said  "Why  should  such  beauty 

In  the  shadows  hidden  be? 
Where  none  save  the  birds  and  breezes, 

And  the  twinkling  stars  can  see?" 

Then,  a  voice  from  out  the  branches 
That  nodded  above  my  head, 

A  voice  like  a  chord  of  music, 
Called  to  me,  and  softly  said, 

"In  the  world's  most  wretched  places, 
Where  sorrow  and  sin  abound, 

The  greatest  souls,  and  the  purest  hearts 
Again  and  again  are  found. 

The  harmonies,  grand  and  tender, 
That  linger,  and  thrill  the  heart, 

Sang  first  in  the  souls  of  masters, 
Who  were  poor,  save  for  their  art." 

And  so,  mid  the  forest  shadows, 
Doth  blossom  this  flower  fair, 

And  the  world  is  richer,  sweeter, 
Because  God  hath  placed  it  there. 


33 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE   HEART  OF   YOUTH 

Tis  a  dew-splashed,  sun-kissed  garden, 
Where  sweet  wild  fancies  play; 

Where  happy  dreams, 

And  laughter  streams, 
Make  music  all  the  day. 

There  the  tree  of  aspiration 

Is  fair,  and  straight,  and  tall, 
And  love's  red  rose 
In  beauty  grows 

Beside  the  garden  wall. 

There  are  long  sweet  thoughts  that  whisper 

Mid  blossoms  fresh  and  fair; 
And  tender  things 
With  shining  wings, 

Sing  softly,  here,  and  there. 

There  are  birds  of  hope  and  courage, 

Of  faith,  and  joy  and  truth  ; 
And  where  they  sing 
Tis  always  Spring, 

They  make  the  heart  of  youth. 


34 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE  SEASON'S  QUEEN 

Fair  Summer,  with  thy  blossom-dotted  fields, 
And  cool  green  aisles,  where  many  perfumes 

blend  in  fragrance  sweet; 
And  all  thy  dewy  dawnings,  when  the  birds 
In  chorus  join,  and  soft  and  clear  their  morning 
prayers  repeat. 

Bright  Summer,  when  the  sweetest  roses  bloom, 
And  beauty  sleeps  in  every  blade  of  grass  and 

common  flower; 

When,  just  to  be  alive,  and  feel  it  all, 
Doth  lift  us  toward  the  good,  the  grand,  the 
true,  each  glad,  sweet  hour. 

Sweet  Summer,  with  thy  dancing  swaying  leaves, 
That  clothe  the  forest,  and  the  wayside  trees  in 

robes  of  green; 

With  all  thy  mirth,  and  happy,  joyous  sounds, 
Thou  art  methinks,  of  all  the  seasons,  fittest  to 
be  queen. 


35 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


A  MID-SUMMER  FETE 

The  fairies  had  a  party 

One  night,  and  all  the  stars 
Sent  down  a  shower  of  twinkles, 

Except  the  lordly  Mars 
Who  gave  a  shining  sword  of  light, 

The  elfin  king  to  wear; 
And  Venus  sent  a  jewel  bright 

To  deck  the  queen's  fair  hair. 

Their  ball-room  was  a  flower, 

That's  known  as  Queen  Anne's  lace, 
As  dainty,  and  as  lovely 

As  any  palace  place. 
It  swayed  with  every  passing  breeze, 

Sweet  perfumes  filled  the  air; 
And  sleepy  birds  high  in  the  trees 

Chirped  softly,  here  and  there. 

The  wee  folk  danced  to  music 

From  meadow  lily  bells, 
And  drank  sweet  draughts  of  nectar 

From  tiny  dewdrop  wells. 
To  usher  in  belated  guests 

The  insects  clashed  their  gongs 
And,  in  the  grass,  the  Summer  winds 

Sang  tender  whisper  songs. 


36 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

At  last,  when  they  grew  weary 

Of  their  gay  fancy  ball, 
The  flower  made  a  cradle, 

With  room  enough  for  all 
The  tiny  elves  to  nestle  close, 

Among  its  laces  white, 
And  then,  old  Mother  Moon  smiled  down, 

And  kissed  them  all,  good-night. 


37 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


GOD'S  GIFT 

God  made  a  chain  of  perfect  days, 
And  gave  it  to  young  June  to  wear; 

She  took  it  with  a  joyous  smile, 
And  thanked  Him,  with  a  silent  prayer 
Of  beauty,  and  of  fragrance  rare. 

God  trained  a  choir  of  happy  birds 
To  sing  for  June  their  sweetest  lays, 

She  listened,  with  her  face  alight, 
And  thanked  Him  in  a  hundred  ways 
For  all  those  wondrous  songs  of  praise. 

God  gives  to  us  His  lovely  June, 
And  bids  us  seek  her  friendship  rare. 

We  take  the  gift,  but  do  we  heed 
The  songs  of  praise  that  fill  the  air? 
And  understand  her  silent  prayer? 


38 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


A  SUMMER  DAY 

I   love  the  breath  of  every  rose  that  Summer 
brings, 

The  clover's  perfume,  and  the  hum  of  bees; 
The  rippling  sound  of  every  little  brook  that  sings, 

The  whisper  of  the  winds  among  the  trees. 

I  love  the  dewy  mornings,  radiant  and  sweet, 
When  joy  pervades  the  very  air  we  breathe; 

The  calm  of  noontide,  with  its  drowsiness  and  heat, 
The  tender  twilight,  when  strange  fancies 
wreathe 

Themselves  about  me,  like  the  ghosts  of  by-gone 

flowers, 

And  I  walk  softly  down  the  path  of  years; 
Past  golden  days  of  youth,  and  happy  care-free 

hours, 
With  here  and  there,  a  shadowed  pool  of  tears. 

And,  when  the  Summer  moon  is  queen  of  earth 

and  sky, 

And  starry  lamps  shine  softly  in  the  blue, 
My  thoughts  like  homing  birds,  take  wing,  and 

swiftly  fly 
Across  the  night,  across  the  years,  to  you. 


39 


fff/' 

m 


MAIDEN-HAIR   FERNS 

God  writes  His  poems  for  us  to  read, 

Upon  the  leaves  of  Nature's  book; 
Sometimes  it  is  a  common  weed, 

Sometimes  a  little  hillside  brook. 
Sometimes  a  field  of  daisies  white, 

And  then,  a  wonder  of  a  tree; 
Sometimes  a  bird,  with  plumage  bright, 

Sometimes  a  stretch  of  sun-kissed  sea. 


Along  a  quiet  country  way 

I  found  a  spot  of  beauty  rare; 
A  place  where  cool  dim  shadows  lay, 

A  bank  of  dainty  maiden-hair. 
The  wood  nymphs  might  have  fashioned  them, 

Those  fragile  things  of  tender  green; 
Each  feathered  frond,  each  slender  stem, 

The  fairest  I  had  ever  seen. 


40 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

They  seemed  like  dream  things  waiting  there, 

For  those  to  see,  who  passed  them  by; 
Sweet  bits  of  beauty  fresh  and  fair, 

Beneath  the  peaceful  August  sky. 
And  when  cold  Winter  locks  the  streams, 

And  summer-time  seems  far  away; 
Again  I'll  see  them  in  my  dreams, 

Those  fairy  ferns,  I  saw  that  day. 


41 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


BEAUTY 

In  the  fair  blue  sky  she  dwelleth, 
From  the  rosy  blushing  dawn 

Till  the  sun  in  glory  fadeth, 
And  the  glad  bright  day  is  gone. 

From  the  flowers'  little  faces, 
And  the  grasses  on  the  leas; 

From  the  plumage  of  the  wild  birds, 
And  the  green-clad  forest  trees, 

Beauty  smiles  a  happy  greeting 
To  the  thoughtful  passer-by 

Who  doth  feel  her  gentle  presence, 
And  doth  know  when  she  is  nigh. 

In  the  twilight  calm  she  lingers, 
Like  a  strain  of  music  sweet; 

Touching  hearts  with  magic  fingers, 
Moving  swift,  with  noiseless  feet. 

And,  when  evening  shadows  gather, 
She  is  still  a  royal  queen; 

Clad  in  robes  of  tender  moonlight, 
Glist'ning  with  a  starry  sheen. 


42 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

Beauty  lives  in  human  faces, 

In  a  look,  a  word,  a  deed; 
In  a  smile  that  giveth  sunshine, 

Hope,  and  cheer,  where  there  is  need. 

But,  methinks,  mayhap  to  angels 
In  that  country  bright  above, 

That  the  highest  form  of  beauty 
Is  earth's  sweetest  blossom,  love. 


43 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


DREAMING 

I  wandered  away  into  dreamland, 

Just  as  twilight  softly  fell, 
And  over  the  fields  where  the  daisies  slept 

Came  stealing  the  voice  of  a  lone  church  bell. 
I  could  hear  faint,  and  far,  the  lullaby  songs 

The  mother  birds  sang  to  their  young; 
And  the  breezes  call 
To  the  waterfall, 

As  they  wandered  the  trees  among. 

And  I  thought  of  the  life  that  might  have  been, 

As  the  moonbeams  spun  their  gold; 
And  God  in  the  infinite  realms  above 

His  star-spangled  curtain  of  light  unrolled. 
1  could  hear  sweet,  and  low,  the  dear  words  of  love 

That  someone  once  whispered  to  me; 
Then,  the  night  was  o'er, 
It  was  morn  once  more, 

And  my  dreams  floated  out  to  sea. 


44 


ECHOES   FROM    THE   GREEN   HILLS 


A  SUNBEAM,  A  SONG,  AND  A  SMILE 

I  woke  to  find  a  sunbeam  bright 

Within  my  quiet  room, 
Twas  but  a  bit  of  golden  light, 

But  it  dispelled  the  gloom. 

Twas  just  a  bird  song,  clear  and  sweet, 

That  fell  upon  my  ear; 
Yet,  all  my  soul  went  out  to  meet 

That  sound,  to  me  so  dear. 

Twas  but  a  sunny,  gladsome  smile, 

That  greeted  me  that  day; 
Yet,  I  was  happy,  for  a  while, 

Because  it  glanced  my  way. 


45 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


TWILIGHT  ON  LAKE  WILLOUGHBY 

The  sky  was  blue  as  Summer  skies  can  be, 
The  lake,  a  fair  child  dreaming,  lay  asleep. 

It  pictured  in  its  mirror,  rock  and  tree, 
And  showed  us  secrets,  hidden  in  the  deep. 

We  heard  the  thrushes  call  from  shore  to  shore, 
Their  notes  like  vesper  bells  rang  all  about; 

And,  in  the  west,  gray  Twilight  held  the  door, 
While  that  fair  Summer  Day  passed  slowly  out. 

We  breathed  the  mountain  air  with  keen  delight, 
Fresh  from  the  spicy  woods,  and  heights  untrod; 

We  watched  the  afterglow  grow  soft  and  bright, 
And  breathed  a  wordless  prayer  of  thanks  to 
God. 


46 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


A  PICTURE 

Just  a  hazy,  lazy  day, 

Warmth  and  beauty  everywhere, 
Sun-kissed  apples  'neath  the  trees, 

Spicy  odors  in  the  air. 

Bird  folk  bidding  us  good-bye, 
Till  they  come  again  next  year; 

Insects  humming  drowsily, 
Waters  lying  calm  and  clear. 

Gold  and  crimson  streamers  hung 
From  dame  Nature's  leafy  walls; 

Tender,  brooding  silences, 
In  the  dim,  cool  forest  halls. 

Scarlet  berries,  glowing  bright, 
Milkweed  all  in  white  array; 

One  fair  page  from  Nature's  book, 
Just  a  picture  of  a  day. 


47 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE   LAST  SONG 

I  stood  alone  beside  a  bubbling  spring, 

And  watched  the  glory 

That  like  some  rich  eastern  robe 
About  September's  regal  form  did  cling. 

The  woods  were  all  aglow  with  colors  bright, 

And  there,  around  me 

Golden  rod  and  asters  lent 
Their  sweet  fresh  beauty  to  the  lovely  sight. 

The  air  was  mild,  and  full  of  spicy  smells, 

That  with  the  breezes 

Wandered  to  and  fro,  and  found 
At  last  a  resting  place,  in  quiet  dells. 

The  brooks  that  laughed  and  sang  in  June  were 
still, 

Cloudless  was  the  sky, 

And  blue  as  violet's  eyes, 
That  ope  in  May,  beside  the  dancing  rill. 

The  sun-steeped  orchards  seemed  to  me  asleep, 

So  still  and  peaceful 

Lay  they  in  the  mellow  light 
That  hovered  o'er  them,  with  a  splendor  deep. 

48 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

The  ripened  fruit  among  the  green  leaves  hung 

All  gold  and  crimson, 

While  from  clinging  vines  the  grapes 
In  luscious  purple  clusters  lightly  swung. 

And  'neath  the  trees,  where  warm  the  sunshine  lay, 

Great  heaps  of  apples 

Waited  for  the  children  dear, 
Who,  to  and  fro,  from  school  would  pass  that  way. 

At  length,  a  sound  the  happy  silence  broke, 

First  soft,  then  louder, 

Clear  and  sweet,  it  rose  a  song 
That  in  my  heart  strange  tender  memories  woke. 

Dear  bird,  who,  ere  he  to  the  southland  flew 

Sang  one  last  sweet  song, 

That  through  all  the  quiet  wood 
Lingered  in  after  days,  as  perfumes  do. 

So  may  it  be,  when  summer-time  is  o'er, 

And  at  my  gateway 

Autumn  stands,  may  all  be  like 
That  calm  September  day,  I  ask  no  more. 

And  may  I  leave  a  blessing  and  a  smile 

When  I  go  yonder, 

That  will  make  some  few  hearts  glad 
That  I  have  lived,  and  worked,  a  little  while. 


49 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


A  DAY  IN  LATE  OCTOBER 

The  wind  in  some  far  valley  slept  that  day, 
The  earth  was  bathed  in  floods  of  yellow  light ; 

The  spicy  air  was  soft,  and  warm  as  May, 
And  Silence  'neath  the  tree  sat,  robed  in  white. 

The  Summer  tempests  then  were  all  forgot, 
And  dreary  days,  when  clouds  and  rain  held 
sway, 

I  only  saw  the  marvel  they  had  wrought, 
That  wonder  of  the  year,  that  golden  day. 

A  tender,  brooding  spirit  seemed  abroad, 
That  whispered  low  of  rest,  and  sweet  repose, 

Methinks  it  may  have  been  the  peace  of  God, 
That  through  the  world  like  fragrance  comes, 
and  goes. 

Twas  not  like  June,  when  all  the  world  was  new, 
When  hope  is  young,  and  Love  is  strong  and 
bold; 

I  saw  the  signs  of  many  storms  passed  through, 
'Twas  like  the  face  of  age,  that's  not  grown  old. 

50 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

A  face  where  Sorrow's  hand  has  left  its  seal, 
And  yet,  with  lips  that  smile,  and  eyes  that  shine 

With  that  clear  light,  that  ever  doth  reveal 
The  soul  within,  that  spark  of  life  divine. 

And  so  that  day,  though  void  of  Springtime's 
charm, 

Was  full  of  quiet  gladness,  and  content; 
And  gave  to  all  alike  its  strange  sweet  calm, 

Twas  Nature's  benediction,  ere  she  went 

To  join  the  silent  white-veiled-sisterhood, 
Who  dwell  apart,  within  the  convents  dim, 

That  Winter  builds  in  every  quiet  wood, 

And  sometimes  on  the  hilltops,  cold  and  grim. 

O  peaceful  hours  amid  life's  joy  and  pain, 
Thy  memory  will  live  within  my  breast; 

O  golden  day,  that  ne'er  can  come  again, 
Thou  wert  to  me  a  dream  of  perfect  rest. 


51 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  WIND 

Over  the  fields  and  woods  I  go, 
Tossing  in  drifts  the  glist'ning  snow, 
Making  the  naked  branches  groan, 
And  the  sombre  pines  to  sigh  and  moan, 
As  I  rock  them  to  and  fro. 

Over  the  fields  and  woods  I  fly, 

Blossoming  trees  and  hedges  by, 
Tiny  new  leaflets  dance  and  play, 
And  bright  happy  voices  seem  to  say, 

"O  that  Spring  would  last  for  aye!" 

Over  the  fields  and  woods  I  glide, 

Rustling  corn  and  wheat  beside; 
Over  the  dusted  heated  street, 
Into  the  bowers  fragrant  and  sweet, 

Where  the  shy  wild  blossoms  hide. 

Over  the  fields  and  the  woods  I  roam, 
When  birds  have  sought  their  southern  home; 
When  dead  leaves  on  the  damp  earth  lie, 
And  tear  drops  fall  from  the  dull  gray  sky, 
And  Autumn's  sad  days  have  come. 


52 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


PATIENCE 

When  pain  makes  dark  and  dreary 

What  before  was  bright, 
When  brain  and  heart  are  weary, 

And  hope  is  out  of  sight; 
When  Sorrow,  pale  and  sad-eyed, 

Doth  take  thee  by  the  hand, 
And  lead  thee  through  the  shadows 

Toward  some  dim,  untried  land; 
Look  outward,  and  not  inward, 

Look  upward  and  not  down; 
Be  patient  'neath  thy  burden, 

His  cross  shall  win  thy  crown. 


TWILIGHT 

Beyond  the  golden  rim  of  day 

She  came,  a  lady  all  in  grey. 

With  tender  eyes,  alight  with  dreams, 

And  hair,  that  held  stray  sunset  gleams. 

Her  voice  was  music  in  my  ears, 

Her  smile  was  strangely  mixed  with  tears; 

And  round  her,  floated  on  the  breeze 

The  fragrance  of  old  memories. 


53 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


WELCOME  OLD  WINTER 

There  are  no  song-birds  left  in  the  woodland 
bowers, 

No  blossoms  in  meadow  or  lea; 
No  delicate  perfumes  afloat  on  the  breezes, 

No  laughter  of  brooks,  glad  and  free. 

The  fair  gentle  Spring  and  the  beautiful  Summer 
Have  told  their  sweet  story  once  more; 

Sad  Autumn  is  waning,  the  North  wind  is  sighing, 
And  old  Winter  knocks  at  the  door. 

Let's  give  him  a  welcome,  the  jolly  old  traveler, 
Who  comes  with  a  rush  and  a  roar; 

With  jingle  of  sleighbells,  and  bright  hints  of 

Christmas, 
Come  children,  let's  fling  wide  the  door! 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


CROWS  IN  WINTER 

When  your  corn  is  nicely  planted 

In  the  mellow,  fertile  ground, 
You  don't  feel  exactly  friendly 

To  the  crows,  when  they  come  round 
With  their  everlasting  chatter, 

And  their  appetite  for  corn; 
Then,  they  seem  to  you  a  nuisance, 

And  you  wish  they'd  not  been  born. 
But,  when  Winter  spreads  his  blankets 

Over  valley,  field  and  hill, 
When  the  wild  birds'  nests  are  empty, 

And  their  happy  songs  are  still; 
On  some  bright  and  sunny  morning, 

When  the  ice  begins  to  thaw, 
If  you  chance  to  hear  from  somewhere 

A  familiar,  friendly,  "Caw!" 
You  will  feel  a  thrill  of  gladness, 

And  your  heart  will  leap,  and  sing; 
And  you'll  shout,  "A  crow,  d'you  hear  him? 

Say,  now  don't  that  sound  like  Spring?" 


55 


THE  LOVE  OF   COUNTRY  FIRST 

In  this  hour  of  stress  and  strain 
When  the  soul,  and  heart,  and  brain 
Reel  and  stagger,  while  we  wait, 
Trembling,  for  the  nation's  fate; 
When  we  cannot  see  the  way 
Growing  rougher  day  by  day, 
And  our  land  by  war  is  cursed, — 
Keep  the  love  of  country  first. 

Set  aside  all  selfish  aims, 
Treasure  in  your  hearts  the  names 
Of  the  men  who  bled  and  died 
For  this  land,  "the  pilgrims'  pride," 
In  the  ranks  your  places  take, 
Fight,  for  blessed  freedom's  sake, 
And,  though  foes  may  do  their  worst, — 
Keep  the  love  of  country  first. 

Give  no  place  to  hate  or  greed, 
Serve  your  nation  in  her  need, 
Patriotism  is  the  word, 
Let  its  voice  be  often  heard; 
Answer  quickly,  to  its  call, 
There  is  work  enough  for  all. 
Do  not  wait  to  be  coerced, — 
Keep  the  love  of  country  first. 


56 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

God  is  on  the  side  of  right, 
Though  our  feeble  human  sight 
Cannot  penetrate  the  gloom 
Woven  by  yon  skillful  loom, 
Manned  by  jealousy  and  hate; 
We  must  trust,  and  work,  and  wait, 
Hoping  we  have  seen  the  worst, — 
Keeping  love  of  country  first. 

Oh,  be  loyal,  brave  and  true, 
Come  what  may,  your  duty  do. 
Look  beyond  these  trying  years 
With  their  heartbreak,  and  their  tears, 
To  the  time  when  wars  shall  cease, 
And  the  world  will   be  at  peace. 
See  glad  freedom's  fetters  burst 
Keep  the  love  of  country  first. 

April,  1917. 


57 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


PEACE  ON  EARTH  AGAIN 

I  hear  the  tramp  of  marching  feet, 

I  see  the  strong,  the  brave,  the  true; 
Who  "over  there"  across  the  seas, 

Are  fighting  for  the  right,  and  you. 
For  liberty  and  all  the  world, 

For  freedom's  reign  in  every  land; 
And,  while  they  strive,  let  us  at  home 

Be  quick  to  lend  a  helping  hand. 

I  hear  the  bugle  call  to  arms, 

From  training  camps,  both  far  and  near, 
Where  mothers'  boys,  and  fathers'  sons 

And  lovers  true,  and  husbands  dear, 
Are  learning  all  the  art  of  war, 

That  they  may  speed  the  happy  day 
When  men  shall  lay  their  weapons  down, 

And  find  another,  better  way. 

I  hear  the  groans  of  wounded  men, 

I  see  their  faces,  stern  and  white; 
I  hear  the  prayers  of  those  at  home, 

O  God,  where  is  thy  hand  of  might? 
Have  we  not  had  enough  of  war? 

Wilt  thou  not  strike  a  final  blow? 
Have  we  not  learned  a  lesson  yet, 

That  thou  wouldst  have  thy  children  know? 

58 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

I  see  the  dawning  of  the  day 

For  which  we  all  have  prayed  so  long; 
And,  in  the  distance  I  can  hear 

The  notes  of  love's  triumphant  song. 
O  purge  the  world  of  hate  and  greed, 

And  guide  the  wayward  feet  of  men; 
Write  thou  thy  law  upon  our  hearts, 

And  give  us  peace  on  earth,  again. 

November,  1917. 


59 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE  STAY-AT-HOME 

He  wanted  to  go  with  the  colors, 
To  fight  for  the  red,  white,  and  blue; 

He  wanted  to  join  the  great  army 
Of  boys,  who  were  loyal  and  true. 

He  longed  to  avenge  little  children, 
With  others,  he  wanted  his  chance 

To  fight  for  the  right,  and  his  country, 
A  soldier  lad,  somewhere  in  France. 

He  wanted  to  strive  for  new  freedom, 
To  answer  his  country's  clear  call  ; 

But,  doctors  said,  he  couldn't  stand  it, 
That  there,  he'd  be  no  use  at  all. 

So,  folding  his  dreams  in  the  colors, 
He  laid  them  away,  on  the  shelf; 

And  said,  "I  will  work  for  my  country, 
I'll  do  all  I  can  by  myself." 

The  duty  he  did,  that  was  nearest, 
Put  into  the  work  his  best  skill; 

He  scattered  good  cheer,  hope  and  courage, 
And  managed  some  grumbles  to  still. 


60 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

None  praised  him,  or  called  him  a  hero; 

Few  saw  what  his  life  really  meant; 
He  just  stayed  at  home  with  the  colors, 

And  sowed  the  good  seed  of  content. 

But  someday  his  name  will  be  mentioned, 
As  one  who  stood  bravely  the  test; 

For  those  who  stayed  home  with  the  colors, 
Were  soldiers,  as  well  as  the  rest. 


61 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


BACK  HOME 

Back  in  the  woods,  where  the  clear  brooks  run, 
Flowers  are  blossoming,  one  by  one, 
All  is  as  fair  as  it  used  to  be, — 
Canst  see,  soldier  laddie,  across  the  sea, 
Across  the  sea? 

Back  in  the  fields,  where  the  daisies  grow, 
Clover-bloom  fragrance  the  soft  winds  blow, 
Voices  sweet  call  to  me,  and  to  thee; 
Canst  hear,  soldier  laddie,  across  the  sea, 
Across  the  sea? 

Back  in  the  home,  where  the  love-fires  burn, 
Back  in  the  place,  where  the  fond  hearts  yearn, 
Mother  is  there  and  she  prays  for  thee, 
Dost  know,  soldier  laddie,  across  the  sea, 
Across  the  sea? 

March,  1918. 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


OCTOBER   REFLECTIONS 

Slowly,  sadly,  the  leaves  are  falling 
Over  the  graves  of  the  sleeping  flowers; 

Softly,  sweetly,  the  birds  are  calling, 
From  their  retreats  in  the  woodland  bowers. 

Warm  and  tender,  the  great  sun  lingers, 
Bathing  the  earth  in  his  golden  light; 

Swiftly  changing  with  magic  fingers 

Sober  green  robes  into  garments  bright. 

Sobbing,  sighing,  the  North  wind  rushes 
Over  the  pasturelands,  brown  and  bare; 

Nature  to  sleep  her  children  hushes, 
Covering  each  with  a  mother's  care. 


63 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

TO-MORROW 

The  world  looks  toward  America, 
And  wonders  what  she's  going  to  do, 
If  she  will  prove  herself  to  be 
A  land  of  people  brave  and  free, 
A  nation  great,  and  strong,  and  true. 
Will  she  up-root  the  poison  weeds 
From  out  her  garden  sweet  and  fair, 
And  in  their  place  plant  love  and  truth, 
And  keep  them  ever  growing  there? 

God  looks  upon  America, 

And  wonders  why  she  does  not  wake; 

Why,  after  all  the  weary  years, 

The  sacrifice,  the  bitter  tears, 

The  struggle,  and  the  long  heartache; 

She  does  not  cast  her  fetters  off, 

And  rise,  to  meet  the  great  new  day, 

That  reaches  eager  arms  to  her, 

And  bids  her  haste,  and  not  delay. 

God  wants,  we  want  America 
To  lift  and  keep  her  standards  high  ; 
To  strive  each  day  for  better  things, 
To  soar  each  year  on  stronger  wings, 
To  work,  and  hope,  and  pray,  and  try 
To  be  the  land  for  which  they  died, 
Who  gave  their  future,  and  are  gone; 
That  we,  who  stayed  at  home  in  peace, 
Might  live  to  see  To-morrow  dawn. 

64 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 


BEHIND  AND   BEFORE 

Behind,  are  the  lights  that  now  burn  dim, 
The  dreams  that  have  not  come  true; 

The  shattered  hopes,  and  the  wasted  days, 
The  things  that  we  meant  to  do. 

Before,  is  the  chance  to  try  again, 
The  gleam  of  a  clear  bright  star; 

That  shines  alway,  though  the  night  be  dark, 
And  points  where  the  best  things  are. 

Behind,  is  the  shock  and  pain  of  war, 
The  roar,  and  the  din  of  strife; 

The  bitter  tears,  and  the  broken  hearts, 
The  cost,  and  the  toll  of  life. 

Before,  is  the  dawn  of  brotherhood, 
The  time  when  all  wars  shall  cease; 

When  men  at  last  will  have  climbed  the  hill 
That  leads  to  the  realm  of  peace. 


65 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


BROKEN  PROMISES 

The  morning  may  break  resplendent 

But  a  cloud  of  sombre  grey 

May  quite  hide  the  sky 

From  the  human  eye, 

And  darken  the  whole  glad  day. 

There  may  be  a  bud  of  beauty, 

That  somebody  tends  with  care; 

But  a  gale  at  night 

May  ruin  it  quite, 

And  end  all  its  promise  fair. 

There  may  be  a  young  life  given, 

A  face,  with  a  winsome  smile; 

But  the  voice  so  sweet, 

And  the  tiny  feet, 

May  grow  silent,  ere  a  while. 

And  I  said,  "Why  these  beginnings, 

That  can  never  have  an  end? 

Who  will  pay  the  cost 

Of  the  beauty  lost, 

And  the  broken  hopes  will  mend?" 

"No  beauty  is  ever  wasted," 

Came  the  answer  clear  and  strong; 

"All  the  broken  bits 

The  master  refits, 

Till  the  whole  becomes  a  song." 


66 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


MINE  TO  KEEP 

Mine  to  keep,  within  my  memory's  halls, 
The  music  of  the  robin,  as  he  sings  in  May; 

The  low,  sweet  murmur  of  the  waterfalls, 
As  o'er  the  rocks  and  pebbles  joyously  they  play. 

Mine  to  keep,  the  perfume  of  the  flowers, 
The  glory  of  the  fields,  and  distant  wooded  hills; 

The  sweet  wild  beauty  of  the  forest  bowers, 
The  blithesome  happy  laugh  of  dancing  sun- 
kissed  rills. 

Mine  to  keep,  the  wondrous  blue  of  sky, 
The  gold  and  crimson  of  the  clouds,  ere  twi 
light  falls; 

The  gleam  of  sails,  that  out  at  sea  float  by, 
The  birds,  that  make  the  air  resound  with  low, 
sweet  calls. 

Mine  to  keep,  the  springtime  in  my  heart, 
When   age,   like  winter,  comes,  with  ice  and 
drifting  snow; 

The  blossoms  fair  of  faith,  and  love  and  hope, 
That  1  the  needy  world  may  bless,  where'er  I  go. 


67 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


GOD  KNOWS  THE  WAY 

Why  look  upon  the  darker  side  of  life? 

Why  seek  for  clouds,  or  watch  for  storm  ? 
Why  go  to  meet  thy  troubles,  why  fear  strife? 

Why  anxious  be,  lest  harm  should  come 
To  thee,  or  someone  whom  thy  love  holds  dear? 

Learn  how  to  live  from  day  to  day; 
One  step,  the  hand  that  guides  thee  maketh  clear, 

Canst  thou  not  trust?    God  knows  the  way. 


MY  GARDEN 

I  have  a  beautiful  garden, 

With  many  a  treasure  filled, 
Where  the  years  make  slow  sweet  music, 

And  the  rush  of  life  is  stilled. 
The  winds  of  the  past  sweep  o'er  it, 

From  the  fields  of  long  ago; 
And  all  through  its  beds  and  borders, 

The  flowers  of  memory  grow. 


68 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


FRIENDSHIP 

There  is  a  flower  as  pure  and  white  as  snow, 

That  once  in  bloom,  fades  not  through  passing 

years; 
But,  cared  for  tenderly,  will  fairer  grow, 

Till  there  are  flowers  few,  men  call  its  peers. 
This  blossom  yields  a  perfume  sweet  and  rare, 

A  fragrance,  which  surrounds  the  lives  of  those 
Who  train  this  gift  of  God  with  loving  care, 

As  some  fond  gardener  prunes  a  cherished  rose. 
Within  the  human  heart  its  roots  are  fed, 

The  waters  it  most  needs  from  kindness  spring; 
The  sunshine  that  it  craves  by  love  is  shed, 

And  hope  and  faith  like  birds  about  it  sing. 
Its  rich  full  beauty  here  we  may  not  see, 
But  friendship  in  the  life  beyond  will  perfect  be. 


69 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


WAYSIDE  LIGHTS 

Every  little  helps  a  little, 

Every  sunbeam,  every  smile, 
Every  common  wayside  flower, 

Growing  by  the  fence  or  stile, 
Greets  us  with  a  breath  of  sweetness, 

And  a  beauty,  all  its  own; 
We  were  made  to  help  each  other, 

Nothing  lives  for  self  alone. 

Every  good  deed  is  a  sunbeam, 

Making  someone's  path  more  bright, 
Every  little  self-denial, 

Is  a  star  in  some  dark  night; 
Every  bit  of  honest  effort, 

Every  cheerful  service  given, 
Lights  a  candle  in  some  window 

On  the  road  that  leads  to  Heaven. 


70 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


QUESTIONINGS 

What  is  there  beyond  life's  smiling  and  weeping, 
Its  sunshine  and  shadows,  its  joys  and  pain? 

What  will  it  be  like,  that  endless  forever, 
When  Time  shall  have  ceased  to  reign? 

Is  Heaven  to  be  a  beautiful  city, 
Filled  with  a  glory  of  wonderful  light? 

Will  there  be  a  throne,  a  long  shining  river? 
And  streets  all  golden  and  bright? 

Or,  is  it  perhaps,  but  just  a  fair  country, 
With  mountains  and  valleys  beside  the  sea, 

Where  choirs  of  birds  are  constantly  singing, 
And  brooks  are  happy  and  free? 

Shall  we  be  like  those  the  masters  have  painted? 

Those  angels,  in  shimmering  robes  of  white, 
Shall  we  sing,  and  sing,  adown  through  the  ages? 

And  will  there  be  no  more  night? 

Think  you,  we  shall  know,  and  be  known,  out 

yonder, 
When  the  stars  grow  dim,  and  the  dawn  shines 

through? 

Think  you,  we  shall  love,  and  be  loved,  in  Heaven? 
Ah  me!  if  we  only  knew! 


71 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE  BETTER  WAY 

Some  people  there  are  with  a  little  load 

Of  trouble,  or  care,  or  pain; 
Who  fret  every  step  of  the  weary  road, 

And  oft  rebel  and  complain. 
They  tell  those  they  meet  that  life  is  unjust, 

And  mourn  o'er  their  dreary  lot; 
They  reach  after  bread,  and  get  but  the  crust, 

Then  sigh  for  what  they  have  not. 

While  others,  whose  loads  are  heavier  far 

The  future  with  courage  face; 
They  drop  cheering  words  wherever  they  are, 

And  bear  with  wonderful  grace 
The  prick  of  the  thorns  that  grow  by  the  way, 

The  hardships  they  needs  must  meet; 
They  think  not  of  self,  but  try  every  day 

To  smile,  keep  patient,  and  sweet. 

They  find  after  all,  that  life's  not  so  bad, 

For  flowers  bloom  by  the  way; 
There  are  always  things  for  which  to  be  glad, 

No  matter  what  some  folks  say. 
So  let's  trudge  along,  though  the  road  be  steep, 

And  the  sky  be  overcast; 
If  we  do  our  best,  and  a  brave  heart  keep, 

We  shall  reach  the  goal  at  last. 


72 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


A  CURE 

When  things  get  all  kinder  criscross, 
And  you're  feelin'  sorter  blue; 

Jes  get  chummy  with  the  sunshine, 
Let  it  warm  you,  through  and  through. 

When  the  world  looks  dark  with  trouble, 
And  things  seem  to  go  all  wrong; 

Take  a  mornin'  walk,  and  listen 
To  the  wild  birds'  happy  song. 

Get  in  tune  with  Mother  Nature, 
She  will  straighten  out  the  quirks; 

Then,  go  back,  and  do  your  duty, — 
Try  it,  and  you'll  find  it  works. 


73 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


AN  OLD  MAN'S  COMPLAINT 

When  I  was  young,  an'  wanted  fer 

To  take  a  little  ride, 
I  jest  hitched  up  the  brown  mare  Bess, 

I   bought  uv  Deacon  Clyde. 
An'  down  the  hill  we'd  jog  along, 

On  naught  but  pleasure  bent; 
But  when  we  reached  a  level  stretch, — 

Geemimy!  how  we  went! 

I'd  kinder  hold  up  on  the  lines, 

An'  whistle,  soft  an'  low; 
An'  then,  a  flyin'  through  the  town 

In  fustrate  style  we'd  go. 
Sometimes  Janet  was  by  my  side, 

An'  then,  I'd  drive  more  slow; 
There  wan't  no  use  a  hurryin', 

In  them  old  days,  you  know. 

We  saw  the  sunset  glory  fade, 

An'  die  out,  in  the  west, 
An'  then,  we  watched  the  moon  shine  forth, 

An'  that  time  we  liked  best. 
Twas  all  so  still,  and  peaceful  like, 

An'  fair  as  fair  could  be; 
It  seemed  as  if  the  world  was  made 

Fer  jest  Janet,  an'  me. 


74 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

But  now-a-days,  when  young  folks  ride, 

They  needs  must  have  a  car, 
A  noisy,  hurly-burly  thing, 

That  travels  fast,  and  far. 
It  has  a  horn  attachment  too, 

That  blows  a  fearsome  blast, 
To  warn  slow  folks  to  clear  the  way. 

While  it  goes  whizzin'  past. 

The  songs  uv  birds,  an'  brooks,  an'  winds, 

Don't  have  no  kinder  show; 
But  automobiles  cover  space, 

An'  that's  what  counts,  you  know. 
They  leave  an  awful  smell  behind, 

An'  more'n  a  peck  uv  dust; 
But  that  can't  stop  the  present  age, 

Go  autoin',  it  must. 

The  dear  old  days  uv  loiterin' 

Are  ancient  hist'ry  now, 
High  pressure  is  the  battle  cry, 

Get  there,  no  matter  how. 
Each  day,  some  take  their  last  long  ride, 

Their  autos  gone  to  smash; 
While  others,  crushed  an'  bleedin'  lie, 

Beneath  some  sudden  crash. 


75 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

But  still  the  pageant  sweeps  along, 

The  thing  is  in  the  air; 
The  automobile  has  the  road, 

An'  horse-flesh  must  beware. 
We  slow  old  folks  must  step  aside, 
An'  let  the  things  go  by; 
We  can't  keep  up  with  this  ere  gait, 

An'  'tain't  no  use  to  try. 


76 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


TENDERNESS 

I've  heard  its  voice  in  music  sweet, 
I've  seen  it  in  the  twilight  skies; 

I've  felt  it  in  a  loved  one's  touch, 
I've  seen  it  in  a  mother's  eyes. 

I've  heard  it  in  a  child's  sweet  voice, 
I've  felt  it  in  the  summer  breeze; 

I've  seen  it  in  the  pansy's  smile, 
I've  heard  it  whisper  in  the  trees. 

I've  felt  it  in  the  sun's  warm  rays, 
I've  seen  it  in  the  stars  above; 

It  breathes  in  all  God's  universe, 
The  tenderness  that's  born  of  love. 


77 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


AN  INVITATION 

I  have  a  little  garden  plot, 
Where  happy  fancies  grow; 

Where  voices  greet  me  from  the  past, 
And  faces  come  and  go. 

Where  fragments  of  forgotten  days 

Bring  back  a  word,  a  smile; 
And  dear  ones,  who  have  wandered  far, 
Seem  near  me,  for  a  while. 

And  there  I  spend  a  quiet  hour 
Sometimes,  when  day  is  done; 

And  watch  the  years  go  drifting  by, 
And  vanish,  one  by  one. 

And,  all  alone  with  memory 

Find  peace,  and  strange  sweet  rest; 

Then,  wander  safely  back  again, 
Refreshed,  renewed,  and  blest. 

And  I  would  have  you  share  the  joy 

I  find  within  its  walls, 
And  see  what  I  have  planted  there, 

And  hear  the  soft  footfalls 


78 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

Of  those  who  make  my  garden  fair, 

And  keep  it  fresh  and  sweet; 
So  enter,  friend,  and  spend  an  hour 

Of  rest,  in  my  retreat. 

Then  you  will  see  the  olden  days, 

The  friends,  that  used  to  be; 
As  hand  in  hand,  you  walk  and  talk 

Alone,  with  memory. 


79 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

AN  IDEAL  HOME 

A  place  where  sunny  smiles  and  kind  words  thrive, 
Where  patience  blooms,  and  love  holds  gentle 
sway; 

Where  sympathy  is  ever  kept  alive, 
And  faith  and  trust  keep  watch  from  day  to  day. 

Where  childish  voices  make  glad  music  sweet, 
And  in  each  room  dear  tender  mem'ries  throng; 

Where  oft  are  heard  the  sounds  of  tiny  feet, 
Of  joyous  laughter,  and  of  happy  song. 

It  may  be  in  a  mansion  grand  and  fair, 
Or,  in  a  cottage,  weather-stained  and  old; 

It  matters  not,  the  place,  if  love  is  there, 
For  kindly  deeds  are  dearer  far  than  gold. 

So,  let  us  build  our  habitations  right, 
And  bring  to  them  our  best,  as  on  we  roam; 

Make  each  a  sort  of  steady  beacon  light, 
A  place  to  live  and  grow  in,  "home  sweet  home." 


80 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 


MY   RESOLVE 

I  must  grow  old,  but  I'm  going  to  keep  young, 

And  smile  while  I  can,  and  sing; 
Though  snows  of  age  o'er  my  head  may  be  flung, 

I'll  keep  in  my  heart  the  spring. 

My  feet  may  lag  down  the  long  western  slope, 
But  my  soul  shall  be  light,  and  free; 

I'll  guide  my  steps  by  the  beacon  of  hope, 
The  torch  that  has  beckoned  me. 

Though  years  may  bring  to  me  shadows,  or  sun, 

My  heart,  it  must  not  grow  cold; 
And  when,  at  last,  all  my  journey  is  done, 

My  soul  shall  be  young,  not  old. 


81 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


CONTENTMENT 

1  take  a  sight  o'  comfort, 

Jes  livin'  day  by  day, 
And  pickin'  up  the  sunbeams 

I  find  along  the  way 
That  leads  from  Childhood  Valley 

To  Old  Age,  by  the  sea ; 
And  all  along  the  journey 

There's  joy  enough  for  me. 

Somehow  I  never  tire 

Of  hearin'  robins  sing; 
And  smellin'  all  the  sweetness 

That  comes  along  with  Spring. 
I  love  the  wildwood  blossoms, 

The  laughin'  brooks,  so  free; 
And  if  I  jes  keep  smilin', 

There's  joy  enough  for  me. 

Of  course  there's  broken  bridges, 

And  bits  of  sandy  road; 
There's  long  and  lonely  marshes, 

By  sorrow  overflowed. 
But  there  are  wildrose  hedges, 

And  green  fields,  fair  to  see; 
And  if  I  jes  keep  hopin', 

There's  joy  enough  for  me. 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

I  like  to  meet  a  comrade, 

And  stop,  and  talk  awhile; 
To  feel  a  friendly  hand  clasp, 

And  catch  a  kindly  smile. 
To  sort  o'  sense  the  friendship 

And  love,  I  cannot  see; 
For  they  all  make  the  journey 

A  pleasant  way  for  me. 

I  love  the  quiet  places, 

Where  I  may  pause,  to  think, 
I  love  the  cool  sweet  fountains 

Of  life,  where  I  may  drink; 
But  best  of  all,  the  knowledge, 

That  where  I  cannot  see, 
The  Master  of  the  Ages 

Will  safely  pilot  me. 


83 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


MY  QUIET  VALLEY 

There's  a  quiet  little  valley, 
Where  no  cold  wind  ever  blows; 

Where  the  sunset  and  the  sunrise 
Leave  their  tints  of  gold  and  rose. 

Where  sometimes  the  rarest  music 
Comes  in  strains  divinely  sweet; 

As  I  rest  my  weary  spirit 
Where  the  soft  gray  shadows  meet. 

It  is  hidden  'twixt  the  hilltops 
Of  To-morrow  and  To-day, 

There  my  anxious  thoughts  untangle, 
And  my  troubles  fade  away. 

Gentle  Faith  stands  at  its  portal, 
With  her  bright-faced  sister,  Hope; 

And  the  rich  red  flowers  of  courage 
Grow  upon  its  western  slope. 

Happy  thoughts  are  ever  present, 
Sometimes  singing,  sometimes  still; 

And  the  air  is  always  fragrant 
With  the  perfume  of  good  will. 

84 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

Very  precious  are  the  moments 

That  I  find  to  linger  there, 
For  a  bit  of  quiet  thinking, 

Or  a  softly  murmured  prayer; 

For  they  give  me  strength,  and  patience, 
For  the  path  my  feet  must  tread; 

And  a  smile,  to  meet  the  morning 
Of  the  day  that's  just  ahead. 


85 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


THE  REASON  WHY 

Somehow,  in  spite  of  all  the  things 

That  go  to  make  life  fair, 
The  music  of  the  dancin'  streams, 

The  bird  songs  in  the  air; 
The  sky,  with  all  its  changin'  scenes, 

The  sunshine,  warm  and  bright; 
It's  sometimes  hard  to  balance  up, 

And  make  the  books  look  right. 

Some  people  hafter  go  afoot, 

While  others,  drive  a  team; 
Some  drink  skim  milk  from  wooden  bowls, 

And  others,  live  on  cream. 
Some  eat  the  crusts  and  husks  of  life, 

And  some,  have  cake,  and  pie, 
And  mighty  mixin'  business  'tis 

To  find  the  reason  why. 

There's  those  who  hear  life's  harmonies 

All  full,  and  rich,  and  sweet; 
And  those  who  listen  to  one  tune 

Ground  out  with  measured  beat, 
Till  heart  and  brain  get  on  a  strike, 

And  things  go  sorter  wrong; 
Jest  'cause  they're  got  all  tired  out, 

A  hearing  that  one  song. 


86 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

It's  awful  kinder  puzzlin', 

And  hard  to  cipher  out 
Why  things  get  tangled  as  they  do, 

And  criscrossed  all  about. 
Why  those  who  have,  should  have  still  more, 

While  others,  have  still  less; 
Why  some,  should  drink  life's  choicest  wine, 

And  some,  its  bitterness. 

Of  course  it's  hard  to  understand, 

But  'tain't  no  use  to  doubt; 
I  reckon  God  is  on  His  throne, 

And  knows  what  He's  about. 
The  universe's  a  big  concern, 

Too  much  for  you  and  me; 
But  there  is  One,  who  knows  the  plan, 

And  though  we  can't  quite  see 

Jest  how  it's  all  acomin'  out, 

We  each  can  do  our  part; 
Can  keep  a  smilin'  countenance, 

A  song,  within  the  heart. 
And  some  day,  all  the  clouds  will  fade 

From  out  our  troubled  sky; 
And  we  shall  look  beyond  the  veil, — 

Shall  know,  the  reason  why. 


87 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


LITTLE  VOICES 

Happy  little  voices, 

Full  of  childish  glee; 
Shouting,  laughing,  singing, 

In  the  sunshine  free. 
Joining  in  the  chorus 

That  the  glad  birds  sing 
In  the  morning  hours 

Of  the  fair  young  Spring. 

Cheery  little  voices, 

In  the  noon-tide  calm; 
When  the  streams  are  chanting 

Low,  their  mid-day  psalm. 
From  about  my  door-way 

I  can  hear  them  call; 
Precious  little  voices, 

How  I  love  them  all! 

Sleepy  little  voices, 

When  the  sun  has  set; 
And  with  dewy  kisses 

All  the  grass  is  wet. 
In  the  hush  of  evening, 

Asking  for  God's  care; 
Floating  up  to  Heaven, 

On  the  still  night  air. 


88 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

Tis  the  sweetest  music 

I  shall  ever  hear, 
Trusting  baby  voices, 

Lisping  words  of  prayer. 
Till  in  God's  own  country, 

By  the  crystal  sea; 
Sweetly,  white-robed  angels 

Sing,  to  welcome  me. 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


STEPPING-STONES  TO  HAPPINESS 

If  you  have  a  pleasure,  share  it, 
If  you  have  a  burden,  bear  it, 
If  you  have  a  smile,  why,  wear  it, 

Or  a  grin; 

If  you  have  a  dream,  pursue  it, 
If  you  have  a  duty,  do  it, 
If  you  have  a  task,  go  to  it, 

And  you'll  win. 

If  the  road  seems  rough  in  places, 
Beauty  will  have  left  its  traces, 
And  there'll  be  cool  pleasant  places, 

Rest  to  lend; 

Help  your  comrades  to  be  whiter, 
Try  to  make  some  burden  lighter, 
And  the  world  a  little  brighter, — 

Be  a  friend. 


90 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


ALONE  AT  NIGHT 

Bright  stars,  that  shine  so  far  above  me, 
Are  ye  the  lamps  the  angels  bear, 

As  o'er  the  darkened  world  of  sleep 
They  watch  with  tender  loving  care? 

Sweet  dewy  blossoms  all  about  me, 
Are  ye  a  part  of  Eden's  bliss, 

Designed  by  God,  to  bless  and  brighten 
A  world  as  full  of  tears  as  this? 

Oh,  heart  of  mine,  that  knows  the  beauty 
Of  earth,  and  sky,  and  pale  moonlight; 

Be  still, — and  feel  it  all  around  thee, 
The  strange,  sweet  mystery  of  night. 


91 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


AT  THE  CLOSE  OF  DAY 
To  a  Patient  Invalid 

Softly  fall  the  evening  shadows, 
Toward  the  west  the  sun  doth  creep; 

And  the  little  birds  are  singing 
All  earth's  tired  ones  to  sleep. 

Sweetly  falls  the  clear  sweet  music 

On  the  quiet  Summer  air; 
And  a  hush  broods  over  all  things, 

As  if  nature  were  at  prayer. 

Then  the  stars  peep  shyly  earthward, 
While  sweet  dewy  kisses  fall 

On  the  blossom's  upturned  faces, 
And  among  the  tree-tops  tall. 

Moonbeams  dance  with  swaying  leaflets, 
While  the  cool  wind  softly  sighs; 

And  each  tiny  feathered  songster 
To  his  happy  home-nest  flies. 


ECHOES   FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 

So,  when  life's  long  day  is  ended, 
Softly  may'st  thou  fall  asleep; 

While  the  birds  sing  evening  vespers, 
And  the  long  gray  shadows  creep 

O'er  the  azure  veil  of  Heaven, 

Shutting  out  the  sunlit  west; 
After  years  of  pain  and  weakness, 

May'st  thou  find  a  grateful  rest. 


93 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


TWO  POINTS  OF  VIEW 

"There's  no  use,  I  know  I  can't," 
Sighed  a  pessimistic  ant, 
"Nothing  counts  that  I  can  do, 
Can  you  wonder  that  I'm  blue?" 

"You  are  out  of  tune,  I  see," 
Chirped  a  cheerful  busy  bee; 
"Try,  and  see  what  you  can  do, 
There's  no  sense  in  being  blue. 

Just  brace  up,  and  come  along, 
Listen  to  that  robin's  song 
Nothing  changes  his  gay  mood, 
And  he  does  a  world  of  good. 

Life  is  what  we  make  of  it, 
Whining  doesn't  help  a  bit. 
So  cheer  up,  and  do  your  part, 
You'll  get  there,  but  you  must  start.' 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


GLIMPSES 

I've  seen  it  in  the  pansy's  upturned  face, 
In  dew-drops  bright,  that  gem  the  common  sod; 

I've  seen  it  in  a  young  child's  winsome  grace, 
The  radiant  hope-giving  smile  of  God. 

I've  heard  it  in  the  ocean's  rythmic  song, 
On  Summer  morns,  when  Beauty  walks  abroad; 

In  choirs  of  music,  tender,  sweet  and  strong, 
The  wonderful,  compelling  voice  of  God. 

I  may  not  know  where  God  and  Heaven  are, 
I  am  content  to  live,  and  learn,  and  grow; 

Convinced  that  whether  they  be  near,  or  far, 
It  matters  not,  since  some  day,  I  shall  know. 


95 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 


A  THOUGHT  OF  ME 

When  the  happy  sunbeams  wake  thee, 

And  the  morning  greets  thine  eyes, 
When  the  world  seems  full  of  music 

Floating  up  to  God's  blue  skies; 
When  the  fresh  winds  fan  the  daisies, 

And  bright  dew  drops  gem  the  lea; 
When  the  little  brooks  are  gladdest, 

Hast  thou  then,  a  thought  of  me? 

When  the  great  Sun  takes  the  fair  Earth 

In  his  arms  to  hold  and  kiss, 
And  the  waters  'neath  his  glances 

Silent  grow,  for  very  bliss; 
When  the  little  birds  chirp  softly, 

As  they  flit  from  tree  to  tree, 
In  the  splendor  of  the  noon-tide, 

Hast  thou  then,  a  thought  of  me? 

When  the  moon  is  high  in  Heaven, 

And  the  starry  lamps  are  lit, 
When  the  air  is  sweet  with  incense, 

And  the  night-moths  slowly  flit 
To  and  fro  among  the  blossoms, 

What  does  evening  say  to  thee? 
When  the  south  winds  woo  the  roses, 

Hast  thou  then,  a  thought  of  me? 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


'IF  I  SHOULD  DIE  BEFORE  I  WAKE" 

I'd  like  to  feel  my  task  well  done, 

That  I  no  word  had  spoken 
That  might  give  pain  to  anyone, 

That  I  no  law  had  broken. 
To  know  that  I  had  done  my  best, 

Had  made  some  pathway  brighter; 
That  I  some  heart  had  cheered  and  blessed, 

Had  made  some  burden  lighter. 
And  then  I'd  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 

And  would  no  trouble  borrow; 
I'd  "pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep," 

And  trust  Him  for  to-morrow. 


97 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN   HILLS 


IF  WE  COULD   KNOW 

If  we  could  know  the  silent  joy  that  thrills  the 

earth 
When  sleeping  Nature  feels  the  first  warm  kiss 

of  Spring; 

If  we  could  comprehend  that  wonderful  new  birth 
That  causes  buds  to  bloom,  and  happy  birds 
to  sing. 

If  we  could  know  the  bitter  tears  that  have  been 

shed, 
If    we  could  see  the  broken  shattered  dreams 

of  youth; 
If  we  could  hear  the  pleading  prayers  that  have 

been  said, 

If  we  could  know  how  many  search  in  vain,  for 
truth. 

If  we  could  trust  mid  clouds,  that  God  would  send 

the  sun, 
And  feel  that  what  He  sends,  for  us,  is  right 

and  best; 
If  we  could  tell  which  path  to  choose,  and  which 

to  shun, 

If  we  could  know  the  way  that  leads  to  peace, 
and  rest. 


98 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

If  we  could  know  the  thoughts  that  dwell  in  other 

hearts, 
How  much  of  weary  pain  and  sorrow  might  be 

stayed ; 
If  we,  like  God,  could  see  the  whole,  and  not  its 

parts, 

How  bright  and  glad  for  some  souls  might  the 
world  be  made. 


99 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


HOPE 

Deary,  have  thy  toys  been  broken? 

Art  thou  weary  of  thy  play? 
Has  some  quiet  "no"  been  spoken, 

That  has  kept  thee  from  thy  way? 
Does  to-day  seem  full  of  sadness, 

Canst  thou  not  with  trials  cope? 
Morn  will  bring  thee  hours  of  gladness, 

Patient  be,  my  child,  and  hope. 

Pilgrim,  have  thy  hopes  been  shattered? 

Art  thou  weary  of  the  strife? 
Have  thy  golden  dreams  been  scattered, 

O'er  the  storm-tossed  sea  of  life? 
Does  to-day  seem  full  of  sorrow? 

Dost  thou  in  thick  darkness  grope? 
After  night  will  come  to-morrow, 

Patient  be  till  then,  and  hope. 


100 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


WEAVING 

We  stand  upon  the  river  shore, 
And  backward  look,  across  the  years; 

Sometimes  we  laugh,  sometimes  we  grieve, 
Sometimes  we  smile,  through  mist  of  tears. 

For  life  is  like  a  woven  web, 
Of  quiet  gray,  of  dark  and  light; 

With  strong  rich  threads  of  love  and  hope, 
To  keep  it  firm,  and  make  it  bright. 

As  one  by  one  the  years  drift  by, 
Each,  with  its  warp  and  woof  of  life; 

Let  us  sort  out  the  tangled  skeins 
Of  discord,  discontent,  and  strife, 

And  only  use  the  better  threads, 
That  make  our  fabric  fair  and  strong; 

Weave  now  and  then  a  flower  of  hope, 
With  here  a  smile,  and  there  a  song. 


101 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


WHITHER 

When  life  with  all  its  varied  scenes  is  at  an  end 
And  toward  the  sanded  shores  of  time  my  footsteps 

tend, 
When  all  that  I  have  learned  so  well  to  love  and 

know 
I  leave  behind,  O,  tell  me,  whither  shall  I  go? 

Beyond  this  starlit  veil  of  blue,  what  myst'ry  lies? 
Is  there  a  Heaven  and  place  of  rest,  beyond  the 

skies? 
Is  there  somewhere  a  God,  whose  great  and  mighty 

love 
Will  some  day  draw  all  men  to  him  above? 

Be  still,  O  heart  of  mine,  and  be  at  rest, 

The  little  bird  sleeps  peacefully  within  his  nest, 

The  flowers  bud  and  bloom,  and  never  question 

Why; 
They  do  their  part  the  world  to  bless,  and  so  will  I, 

Trusting  that  He,  who  gives  to  each  wild-bird  his 

song, 
Who  trims  the  stars'  bright  lamps  through  endless 

ages  long, 

Who  guides  the  little  rill,  and  rules  the  mighty  sea, 
To  some  fair  port  at  last  will  safely  pilot  me. 


102 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


OUR  FRIEND 

She  lived  her  best,  from  day  to  day, 
Was  ever  faithful,  ever  true; 

Such  cheering  words  she  used  to  say, 
Kind  deeds  she  loved  to  do. 

She  scattered  smiles  where'er  she  went, 
Before  her  zeal  great  tasks  grew  small ; 

In  her  rare  qualities  were  blent, 
That  made  her  dear  to  all. 

Our  friend  we  never  can  forget, 
Within  our  hearts  enshrined  is  she; 

Her  presence  lingers  with  us  yet, 
A  fragrant  memory. 


103 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


ENCOURAGEMENT 

Just  around  the  corner 

There's  another,  brighter  day; 
Joy  is  waiting  for  you, 

Up  the  hill,  a  little  way. 
Clouds  may  lower  above  you, 

And  some  days  it's  sure  to  rain; 
But  there  will  be  a  rainbow, 

And  the  sun  will  shine  again. 

Just  beyond  to-morrow 

There's  a  dream  that's  coming  true; 
Somewhere,  in  the  future, 

There  is  work  for  you  to  do. 
Keep  your  faith  untarnished, 

Do  your  best,  from  day  to  day, 
And  you  will  find  the  rainbow, 

Just  ahead,  a  little  way. 


104 


ECHOES   FROM    THE   GREEN   HILLS 


MOTHER'S  EVENTIDE 

She  sits  beside  the  quiet  sea, 

And  waits  her  turn  to  go; 
Around  her,  flowers  of  memory 

In  fragrant  beauty  grow. 

With  gentle  dignity  and  grace 
She  waits  and  watches  there; 

The  sunset  light  upon  her  face, 
And  on  her  snow-white  hair. 

The  years  have  brought  her  toil,  and  care, 

Her  share  of  good  and  ill; 
From  each,  she  gathered  riches  rare, 

Her  eventide  to  fill. 

And  now,  with  loved  ones  ever  near, 
With  friends,  and  books,  at  hand; 

She  dwells  in  peace,  our  pilgrim  dear, 
Upon  the  border  land. 

The  twilight  shadows  gently  fall, 
Sweet  thoughts  pervade  the  air; 

The  birds  of  evening  softly  call, 
Frail  moonbeams  kiss  her  hair. 

And  so,  she  sits  beside  the  sea, 

Content  to  wait  a  while; 
Upon  her  face  tranquillity, 

And  in  her  eyes,  a  smile. 


105 


ECHOES   FROM    THE   GREEN   HILLS 


WHEN  I  GROW  OLD 

When  I  have  gathered  all  the  fresh  sweet  bloom  of 

youth, 

And  stand  upon  life's  hilltop,  looking  back; 
When  I  have  sounded  deeps  of  clear  unfettered 

truth, 
Have  left  some  hopes,  some  dreams,  along  my 

track; 

May  Peace  her  cloak  of  white  about  me  fold, 
And  Love  hold  fast  my  hand  as  I  grow  old. 

When  down  the  western  slope  of  time  I  take  my 

way, 

And  leaves  of  Autumn  rustle  'neath  my  feet; 
May  I  recall  with  quiet  joy  life's  glad  young  May, 
When  dreams  were  real,  and  days  were  long, 

and  sweet. 

Keep  me  O  God,  from  growing  hard  and  cold, 
For,  Oh!  I  would  be  young,  when  I  grow  old. 


106 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


WHEN  THE  JOY  BELLS  RING 

O  fair  white  moon,  when  Christmas  draweth  near 
Bid  all  thy  starry  children  bright  to  shine; 

Fill  Heaven  and  earth  with  glory  from  on  high, 
In  honor  of  the  Infant  Child,  Divine. 

O  Winter  wind,  when  angels  chant  above 
Of  peace  on  earth,  go  gently  on  thy  way; 

And  whisper  low  the  message  far  and  wide, 
That  Christ,  the  Lord,  was  born  on  Christmas 
day. 

O  hearts  of  men,  grow  kind,  and  full  of  love, 
When  carols  sweet,  the  happy  children  sing, 

Forgive  all  wrongs,  and  make  some  brother  glad, 
When  o'er  the  land  the  Christmas  joy  bells  ring. 


107 


THE  LAMP  OF  CONTENTMENT 

As  o'er  the  earth  the  Christmas  peace  is  stealing, 
And  on  the  air  the  glad  sweet  bells  are  pealing, 
I  bring  to  thee  a  little  gift  of  love, 
Which,  if  thou'lt  guard  with  care,  will  ever  prove 
A  beacon  bright,  though  dark  and  drear  the  day, 
A  guiding  star,  upon  life's  rocky  way. 

Like  birds  that  come  and  go,  are  hours  of  pleasure, 
True   happiness   is    rare, — a    priceless   treasure; 
But  when  thou'st  learned  to  be  content  with  life, 
To  gather  up  its  joys,  to  shun  its  strife, 
Thou  wilt  not  murmur  at  what  God  may  send, 
But  smile,  and  trust,  because  He  sees  the  end. 

When  thou  art  wounded  by  the  thorns  of  sorrow, 
When  cares  and  trials  wait  thee  on  the  morrow, 
This  little  lamp  of  thine  will  show  to  thee 
Hope's  fragrant  roses,  though  they  hidden  be 
By  weeds  of  doubt  and  fear,  and  thou  shalt  know 
That  all  is  well,  because  God  wills  it  so. 


108 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 

Along  life's  road  are  cool  and  pleasant  places, 
Where  linger  Faith  and  Love,  with  all  their  graces; 
And  there,  soothed  by  their  beauty,  thou  shall  rest, 
Content  to  know  thy  Father's  way  is  best. 
And  though  that  way  thou  canst  not  understand, 
Keep  bravely  on,  thy  beacon  in  thy  hand. 

What  though  the  way  be  long,  and  sometimes 

dreary, 
Though  oft  thy  heart  may  faint,  thy  feet  grow 

weary, 

Hold  fast  thy  little  light,  and  patient  be, 
And  soon  the  sun  will  shine  again  for  thee. 
Hope  thou  in  Him,  who  knoweth  all  thy  needs, 
And  be  content  to  follow,  where  He  leads. 


ECHOES    FROM    THE    GREEN    HILLS 


A  MESSAGE  OF  PEACE 

Where  is  the  peace  of  which  the  angels  sang 
When  that  one  guiding  star  shone  clear  and 
bright? 

Where  is  the  joy  that  filled  the  shepherds'  hearts, 
And  made  a  strange  white  glory  in  the  night? 

Tis  scattered  far  and  wide,  throughout  the  world, 
And  blossoms  here  and  there,  in  hearts  of  men ; 

Its  fragrance  sweetens  life  where'er  it  goes, 
And  bids  the  bells  of  hope  ring  out  again. 

The  world  is  out  of  tune,  but  we  can  hear 
Great  chords  of  harmony,  amid  the  strife; 

And  know,  that  soon  or  late,  there  will  appear 
To  us  a  vision  of  a  better  life. 

And  so,  upon  this  coming  Christmas  day, 

May  those  who  know  real  peace  their  blessing 
share; 

And  fling  it  broadcast,  through  the  needy  world, 
That  it  may  grow  and  blossom  everywhere. 

Until  the  deadly  wrongs  that  shame  our  day, 
The  selfishness,  and  greed,  the  lust  for  gain, 

Be  over-ruled  by  Christian  brotherhood, 
And  God's  own  peace  shall  fill  the  earth  again. 

December,  1919. 


110 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  000  920  722  6 


PS 

3501 

A366e 


